


The Curse

by Deans2Muse



Series: Because I want to [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt No Comfort, One Night Stands, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-06 00:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21217670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deans2Muse/pseuds/Deans2Muse
Summary: What happens when Dean has a little too much fun? He's really no good on his own.





	The Curse

_I’m just no good on my own_, Dean thought miserably as he stifled a moan while he climbed out of unconsciousness. The first thing that assaulted his senses was pain, deep, consuming, throbbing pain. _Here I go again. It’s not the first time I’ve woken up to this feeling and it probably won’t be the last, unfortunately._

Dean listened intently to his surroundings as he tried to diagnose his pain. Definite concussion, probably major, minor, for sure. Keeping his breathing steady, he felt the possibility of damaged ribs but he couldn’t know for sure until he moved or remembered what the hell had happened and where the hell he was. He sensed someone else in the room; heard them breathing.

He forced his eyelids to crack open as he tried to assess who was with him. He knew it wasn’t Sam. Sam hadn’t been around for the past year. It probably wasn’t his dad, either, because his dad would have noticed Dean waking up. There was another reason it couldn’t be his father but he couldn’t remember it right now.

He searched the dusky bedroom in the fading light. The room was filled with muted decorations in browns, oranges and yellows. There were native type designs on the wall, teasing Dean’s memory. He knew what they were but couldn’t remember them. It gave him an even worse headache trying to. The light in the window was slowly lighting the room, meaning the sun was coming up. Morning’s dawning. Then he saw her.

She was definitely beautiful with wavy black hair that flowed past her shoulders. Deep brown eyes with mocha complexion complimented her already gorgeous face. Full ruby lips beckoned him. She was definitely his type. She wore a loose flower print sundress with open toe sandals. Her dress stopped right above her knees. There was only one problem with her and it was a big one.

She was sitting by his bed, glaring at him, and if looks could kill, he’d be dead. He blinked once. Again came the nagging feeling that he should know her, both of them. Yeah, he was seeing double or he’d marked on off the bucket list. Somehow, he didn’t think that he had. So . . . definitely a major concussion.

She stood over him at his bedside. She offered him a drink but didn’t remove her glare. He slowly rose, testing his body. The room spun and his breath hitched as pain flared from his left side. Both his shoulder and ribs protested the movement. He gritted his teeth against the pain and took a couple of sips of water before relaxing back into the bed, breathing slow and shallow to keep from giving into his pain.

“Serves you right,” she snapped irritably.

“You do this?” he asked hesitantly. He didn’t think so but she obviously didn’t like him.

She blinked slightly taken back then smirked, “I should have but no. I found you behind the bar like this. Although why I didn’t leave you there, I have no idea. I mean, I know that it was just a one-night thing but did you have to have **_her_ **the same night then the next night as well? Couldn’t you have waited at least a day before slutting around again? Or at the very least not parade her before me? There are other bars in this town,” she growled angrily. 

He frowned, trying to remember. Pain filling his brain, pulsing like a living, breathing entity out to destroy him. He caught flashes of memory. Some of it came back to him although it hurt like a SOB. He grimaced and closed his eyes for a moment.

“So he did take advantage of you,” an older female voice observed drily. “I thought I taught you better than this.”

His eyes flicked open and he saw what looked like a voodoo priestess in the doorway, in her full regalia, no less. He looked at the two women and couldn’t hold back the groan. _Why me?_ He asked the universe who had started hating him when he turned four years old.

“Stay out of this. Please,” the daughter pleaded. “I will handle it.”

The older woman arched her brow, “Oh, and how will you handle it.”

The daughter smirked and turned back to Dean. Dean growled and tried to roll off the bed as she started chanting with her arms stretched out. Dean managed turn sideways and get his feet on the ground, barely. He also managed to stand up and push the chanting woman back into her chair before he realized that he didn’t have a stitch of clothes on him.

The room spun viciously and he felt himself falling forward on to the woman which he decided was okay because then he could stop the chanting with his hand over her mouth. That should work, at least, until he found his gun or something. He didn’t count on the white spots in his field of vision or almost passing out from the pain and exhaustion.

Slowly he became aware of hands, holding him on his knees as he vomited into a trashcan placed in front of him. Throwing up hurt his damaged ribs but he couldn’t stop. Stupid concussion.

Finally, he could lean back and away. He sagged heavily against the side of the bed that he had been in. Both arms crossed over his abdomen as he tried to get the pain back under control. He barely noticed the blanket being placed around him, covering him.

He slowly opened his eyes and found the older woman in the chair now, not the young one. He glanced around and couldn’t find the other one. He leaned his head back to rest against the bed and clarified, “I’m cursed now, right?”

The old one cracked a slight half-smile in confirmation. The smile did not touch the eyes that were studying him like a bug to be dissected. 

“Great. That’s just great. Like this month couldn’t get any worse,” he grumbled to himself.

“What did you expect when you treat a woman with so little respect?”

He started to roll his eyes but stopped pretty quickly. Eye rolling and concussions really don’t mix he’d learned the hard way along time ago. “It wasn’t like that, damn it. I’m no saint but I’ve never done two women the same night.”

“My daughter says otherwise,” she argued firmly. “My daughter does not lie.”

He sighed heavily and grimaced with pain. ”I know.” She raised her eyebrows in question. In response, he observed questioningly, “Voodoo priestess?”

“Hoodoo,” she corrected firmly.

He acknowledged the correction and continued, “Any good? Know about the supernatural?”

“Decent. Which part?”

“Look at the facts and take a guess,” he challenged sardonically.

She studied him a moment before asking cautiously, “Succubus?” He flinched and nodded once slowly. “And yet you live?”

“Was tied up in her cage for most of a day but got a way before the last. . .you know,” he motioned slightly. “Wasn’t sure how to kill her so I looked into then went to the bar where I met her last. A biker that she was after took exception to me trying to distract her but I got her out of there pretending to be under her spell. Barely managed to dust her before the bikers jumped me.”

She nodded deep in thought. After a moment, she prodded, “And my daughter?”

He closed his eyes for a moment then stared right into the priestess’s eyes. “I’m not the marrying type if that’s what you’re asking.”

Her eyes became hooded as she verified, “So you were just using her?”

He smirked, “We used each other. She told me about her ex and how she wanted to forget him. Have some fun. That’s what I am. Fun.” He smirked again but this time it was more self-mocking than anything else. “Besides, I’m not someone you want to stick around. And neither does she.”

She cocked her head, hearing something in his words. “Did her ex see you two together?”

He smiled in memory, “Yeah. He was an ass and started swinging. It didn’t take much to take him down. Hopefully I broke his jaw. She didn’t deserve what he was saying. Or, at least, I didn’t think so at the time. What did she curse me with anyway?”

She pursued her lips thoughtfully. “We will get to that. I have a few more questions first.” He sighed and closed his eyes again. She took his silence as an okay. “What makes you someone that I don’t want to stick around?”

He looked at her through slit eyes. “Don’t know. Just figure that’s the way I am.”

“Why?” the priestess prodded then she saw his stubborn jaw clench. “It is to your benefit to tell me the truth. It will help me remove the curse.”

He studied her then realized he didn’t really have anything to lose. He almost laughed aloud at that. He hadn’t had anything to lose for a while now. All his family had already deserted him. If he were honest with himself, he would have realized that the predicament that he was in now was a direct result of knowing that there was no one to go back to. No one was expecting him. No one was out looking for him. No one would even know he was gone. _Except for . . ., _his mind tried to argue but he shut it down abruptly.

“Why?” she repeated, knowing there was something wrong with the young man in front of her.

“Why what?”

“Why are you **_not_** someone that I want to stick around?” she reiterated patiently.

She wouldn’t let it go. Just like Sammy. Just like Dad. When there was something wrong with him, they wouldn’t let it go. They would just keep nagging until he admitted what was wrong with him. Then they would use it as ammunition to leave him more often. He sighed again, wondering what he was going to do now. “If I tell you, you will lift the curse?” He bargained, all the while wondering why he was even bothering. Before she could even answer, he followed up quickly, “Is it a death thing?”

She arched an eyebrow at the quick change of emotions. “If it is a ‘death thing’?” He shrugged with his good side and she knew what that meant. “You are willing to die,” she observed quietly. “Why? What of your family?” He couldn’t stop the flinch in time. She leaned back, piecing the young man puzzle together. “They left you.” She read him well and knew she had found the answer to her earlier questions. “Which is why you think . . .” Dean interrupted her before she could finish.

“Look, lady, I don’t know what you’re talking about or going for but I’m kinda tired and I need to get back to my room so I can get some sleep. Besides, I’m not really into the caring-sharing Oprah thing,” he informed her, clearly changing the subject. “Don’t need any group hugs or anything.”

He slowly moved his legs up to get them under him and used his good arm to pull himself up. He swayed heavily but she stabilized him before he even realized that she had moved. He was about to thank her when he felt her gently push him back into the bed. He started to protest but she cut him off quickly.

“You cannot make it to the door, much less to your hotel. You will rest here for now and I will talk to my daughter. We will speak again when you wake up,” she ordered firmly. She pulled up the covers over him. Against his will, his weary eyes closed, and everything faded to black. With a soft sigh, he slept.


End file.
